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dragonyphoenixTitle: Adrift in a Sea of Discarded Desires 2/5
Series: Double!Verse
Fandom: BtVS
Characters/Pairing: Willow/Spike, Dru
Rating: R
Concrit: Please, in comments
Disclaimer: They aren't mine, not yet, but the will be once I've taken over the world. Bwah-ha-ha.
Warnings/Squicks: Non-con; death during sex
Summary: Sequel to Conjuring Love from the Ashes of an Old Flame – as the love spell wears off, Willow and Spike remain together, but an unexpected arrival might change things forver.
Notes: Might be my first femmeslash with an explicit sex scene.
Notes: Thanks to everyone who helped me with San Francisco: rebcake for suggesting Haight-Ashbury and providing very detailed descriptions of the painted ladies and pass-throughs; whichclothes for stepping up and suggesting where Spike and Willow might set up shop and also for suggesting that they snack on conventioneers; rua1412 and brunettepet for suggesting how Spike might get around the city; findmeneverland for discussions about Golden Gate Park and Spike transportation; and vikingprincess for pointing me to a very fun street, which sadly didn't make it into the story. You were all so helpful! Thank you. All mistakes are, of course, my own.
Spike found himself by the carousel, a cigarette dangling from his fingers. Dru had loved merry-go-rounds, the stately carriages so unlike the uncomfortable jolting boxes they'd ridden as humans; the horses, seemingly wild but really frozen, tamed to the purpose of man; the music that stayed in her head for weeks; the children. Ah, the little kiddies. He used to stand off to the side, waiting with parents while Dru rode round and round and round until suddenly she wouldn't be there. A kid would be gone too. He'd loved it: the parents' dawning realization that their kid was gone; the anxious wait for the merry-go-round to come around again, while they hoped their little brat would be there; the running after, screaming out a name. Good times, but no more. He couldn't trust Dru, not after she'd betrayed him. You just don't turn your beloved into a sodding doll.
Dropping the cigarette, his face a mask of indifference, Spike's legs were taking long, purposeful, don't fuck with me strides across the open area, the grassy garden between the buildings. Scanning automatically, he'd discarded the two men in suits, who stood by the railing that overlooked the back of the children's museum, as unimportant, when one of them, younger and shorter than his companion, started running over to Spike. “Hey you.”
“Oh no you didn't,” Spike muttered. As the man reached out to grab him, Spike, reading the name tag, said mildly, hoping to egg the man on, “Ray, keep that hand to yourself.”
Ray, his height allowing him to look down on Spike, got right into it, not bothering to assess Spike, although he did whisper his question. “Know where I can pick up some yerba buena?” When Spike merely blinked a few times in response, not believing what he'd just heard, Ray started in again. “Herba sancta, Mary Jane, pot?”
Spike laughed. “Are you honestly looking for marijuana at the Yerba Buena Gardens?”
Ray, looking confused, glanced over at his companion, an older man whose suit had a finer weave, for confirmation. Spike read the name tag while waiting for Ray to figure out what to do: Hal Wilburn, Aviation Technologies, Inc. “Well, yeah,” Ray finally mumbled.
“I am so doing the world a favor by taking you out of it.” As he shifted into vamp-face, dragging Ray in close and biting his neck, Spike caught Hal with his gaze, watching him cower against the railing, frozen in place as he glanced back and forth as if looking for escape, indecisive and unable to run. Letting Ray fall to the ground, Spike dropped his vamp-face, smiled at Hal and strolled off, singing at the top of his lungs, paraphrasing an old Dead Kennedy's tune. “Gonna kill, kill, kill, kill, kill the dumb. Kill, kill, kill, kill, kill the dumb.” Dealing with the idiots had unexpectedly put him in a good mood. He decided to look for Willow.
Crossing town had taken no time, as if love had given him wings, until he'd reached their home. Spike stared up, not seeing the bright yellow siding of the house, standing shock still in the front yard, frozen in place, glued to the ground by the heaviness in his heart, listening to two sets of moans and one short, high-pitched scream cut off just as it began. Willow wasn't alone. Kicking in the front door, not caring who heard the ruckus, ignoring the tinkling of glass as the door hit the wall, Spike raced up the stairs taking them three and even four steps at a time, slammed open the bedroom door, and stopped again.
Willow was on top, straddling the couple entwined on the bed, shoving that great monstrosity of a phallus into the ass of that little bit of a girl they'd stashed in the closet, the housekeeper that Willow had insisted they needed to keep around. As Willow pulled it out, readying herself to shove it in again, Spike could see it was slick with blood. No surprise there. Willow herself could barely take that thing. He couldn't imagine what it would do to a human, but that wasn't what had stopped him. On the bottom – her mouth latched onto the girl's as if she were feeding off her screams – was a second Willow.
The Willow on top greeted him with a smile, that special one he'd imagined she'd invented only for him, before ramming the dildo in with short, sharp thrusts, twisting it viciously. The girl's screams took on such a desperate tone that even Willow couldn't swallow them all. As Willow let go, shifting into vamp-face, the air filled with screams but only for a moment until both Willows, each going for a different side of the neck, started feeding.
Dumping the corpse to the floor, they got up off the bed, the bottom Willow brushing a finger over her jaw, collecting the blood, while the top Willow gave him a pout, one that, like the smile, he recognized. Spike felt relieved, glad to know which Willow was his. “Pet, mind telling me why there are two of you?”
Willow made him wait while she searched through the closet and pulled out a black robe, silk with red dragons. Spike held it up for her while she slipped her arms in and tied the belt, but when he went to wrap his arms around her, she slipped away. “You wouldn't let me kill Buffy.”
“There are two of you because I wouldn't let you kill Buffy?” He knew that wasn't what she meant, but Willow liked to think she was smarter than everyone else, and he'd found it easier to go along.
“Are you on that again?” the second Willow, the one that wasn't his, asked.
“And you didn't kill your best friend?” Spike could tell, by the way she'd said it, that Willow was hoping the other Willow hadn't, that they'd shared that disappointment.
The second Willow smiled, as if recalling a pleasant memory. “Xander did put up a fight, but he Turned into quite the tasty treat.” She looked at Willow sympathetically. “I know what'll cheer you up,” she said in a voice so intimate that Spike could almost hear the steam rising.
“Don't touch me,” Willow grumbled.
“Not a problem,” the second Willow replied, landing at Spike's feet, kneeling before him, and pulling down his zipper in one flash of motion.
“Hey, what're you doing?” he protested, not sure how he felt about this second Willow. “Oh.” Shoving his hips into her, grinding them against her face, he grabbed onto her hair and held on for dear life.
Willow leaned forward.
Spike shouted out as he came, gripping onto Willow's shoulders tightly, shoving himself against her, and shuddering as she milked down every drop. “By Elegor's ten thousand tentacles, woman! Where'd you learn to do that?”
“Trick of the tongue,” she told him. As she turned to his Willow, asking, “Want me to show you how?” Spike zipped up his pants, vaguely disturbed that the wrong Willow could make him feel what his Willow no longer did.
At the sound of footsteps on the stairs, all three heads turned. Identifying the tread before the two Willows did, Spike stepped between Willow and the door as he wondered if his earlier invocation of the demon had summoned his earliest love.
“There you all are.” Dru's voice called from halfway up the staircase.
The two Willows stepped together, linking arms. “I thought you said she was dead,” Willow commented.
“I showed you Buffy's death. I never said anything about what did or didn't happen to this one,” the other Willow replied as Dru stepped into the doorway.
“She shot an arrow through me, ruining my pretty, pretty dress,” Dru said.
“So you fled,” Willow said, the sarcasm heavy in her voice. “I would have killed Buffy.”
“Now, now pet.”
“Why are you here?” the second Willow asked.
“You know about the Mayor of Sunnydale,” Dru said with certainty.
“No,” Spike replied.
“He became a demon, a true demon,” Willow told him, “but he's been injured.”
“The demon can heal, but only if he feeds on creatures more than human.” Shrugging, Dru added, “I didn't want to become demon food.”
“So stay out of Sunnydale,” the second Willow said.
“He gets a taste for human flesh,” Dru replied, “and takes over the whole,wide world. No more hiding places. Olly olly oxen free for all the dead little girls and boys.”
“So what?” Willow asked, stepping between Dru and Spike. “You think we're going to put on white hats and help you take the demon out?”
“I think she can get us to a different dimension,” Dru said, pointing at the second Willow.
“Let me get this straight,” Spike said. “You think I'm going to trust you after you turned me into a doll?”
“She told me to,” Dru said, a childish pout on her lips as she pointed to the second Willow.
“I don't care what the sea... wait. What?”
The second Willow shrugged. “The last time I was here, the Slayer defeated me. When I got sent back, I studied her and chose an indirect approach.”
“Yeah, well I'll show you the benefits of a direct...” Spike started shouting as he pulled his arm back for a punch.
Willow, his Willow, not that skanky bitch she'd picked up, stepped between them. “Spike, wait. We need her help to leave.”
He stared at her. “You want to leave with these two?”
“If what they say about the Mayor is true, then yes.”
Spike, watching his Willow sharing a glance with that bitch, narrowed his eyes as he worked out what they were up to. “Don't even think about betraying Dru,” he warned. “If you decide to leave her here, she'll know even before you do and pick out someplace awful.”
Dru's smile promised untold agonies and unimaginable torments.
“I don't see why we need her,” Willow said petulantly.
“Because,” the bitch Willow replied, “while I can move between dimensions, I can't scry outside of the dimension I'm in. We could end up anywhere.”
“I can See, but I can't Move,” Dru added.
“Great,” Willow said, fidgeting with the belt of her robe. “A match made in hell. Where are we going then?”
Dru, stepping toward the dresser, waved her hand and Buffy appeared, sitting on the floor of a small, plain room, tugging at her arms, which were wrapped in a straitjacket, as if trying to pull herself out. The bitch Willow took one look and started rummaging about for her clothes. Spike, not interested in anything Dru had to show, lit a cigarette and waited for them to finish. “Where is she?” Willow asked.
“In an asylum,” Dru replied. “The dreams bleed over. She has the visions and the instinct but not the knowledge or the power. She's given it all up you see. They've convinced her she's insane, confused, weak.”
Willow brushed a finger over the mirror. “Buffy isn't the Slayer there? Pity. It'll make her so much less fun to hunt.”
“You really should leave her alone.”
Spike's head jerked up at that, at the warning in Dru's voice, but his words died unspoken as he heard a siren pulling up front. “Time to go.” As Willow grabbed her clothes, he glared, darting glances of rage between bitch Willow and Dru. He could bide his time. His Willow might be enamored with her other self for the moment, but the novelty would wear off. She'd be his, and his alone, again.
The bitch Willow chanted a few words and a white glow overtook his field of vision, so he couldn't see anything else. By the time he'd blinked his sight back, they were there. The cops were gone and, althought the room didn't look that much different, the bed was made where it had been beyond rumpled earlier, and the corpse was gone. “That's it? We're in a different universe?” his Willow asked.
“That's it,” the bitch Willow replied. Hearing something in the bathroom, Spike slipped into the hallway.
The housekeeper, the same girl as from his universe, stepped into the hall just as he did. Grabbing her and slapping a hand over her mouth, Spike dragged her back into the bedroom in time to hear that bitch saying, “Got trained in magic while I was in hell, before I got sent back.”
“Well now,” Spike proclaimed. “Look what I found.”
“Oh good,” Willow said, stepping over and brushing a hand over the girl's cheek. “You died much too quickly last time.”
“Pet,” Spike cautioned. “We need her alive for now, just like we did in our verse. It was your idea, remember?”
“I'm bored with San Francisco.”
“We don't know how this place works yet, luv. It'll be better for us to hole up somewhere familiar while we get a feel for the place.”
Dru chimed in. “When Buffy was put in the asylum, that's when your life here broke off from your life there.”
“They have a Slayer here?” Willow asked.
“Yes, but only one at a time, like it was in our world before Buffy showed up. The last one was from Spain, a plain dark-haired girl who,” Dru started.
“Let's go,” Willow interrupted.
“Where?” Spike asked.
“Los Angeles.”
Series: Double!Verse
Fandom: BtVS
Characters/Pairing: Willow/Spike, Dru
Rating: R
Concrit: Please, in comments
Disclaimer: They aren't mine, not yet, but the will be once I've taken over the world. Bwah-ha-ha.
Warnings/Squicks: Non-con; death during sex
Summary: Sequel to Conjuring Love from the Ashes of an Old Flame – as the love spell wears off, Willow and Spike remain together, but an unexpected arrival might change things forver.
Notes: Might be my first femmeslash with an explicit sex scene.
Notes: Thanks to everyone who helped me with San Francisco: rebcake for suggesting Haight-Ashbury and providing very detailed descriptions of the painted ladies and pass-throughs; whichclothes for stepping up and suggesting where Spike and Willow might set up shop and also for suggesting that they snack on conventioneers; rua1412 and brunettepet for suggesting how Spike might get around the city; findmeneverland for discussions about Golden Gate Park and Spike transportation; and vikingprincess for pointing me to a very fun street, which sadly didn't make it into the story. You were all so helpful! Thank you. All mistakes are, of course, my own.
Spike found himself by the carousel, a cigarette dangling from his fingers. Dru had loved merry-go-rounds, the stately carriages so unlike the uncomfortable jolting boxes they'd ridden as humans; the horses, seemingly wild but really frozen, tamed to the purpose of man; the music that stayed in her head for weeks; the children. Ah, the little kiddies. He used to stand off to the side, waiting with parents while Dru rode round and round and round until suddenly she wouldn't be there. A kid would be gone too. He'd loved it: the parents' dawning realization that their kid was gone; the anxious wait for the merry-go-round to come around again, while they hoped their little brat would be there; the running after, screaming out a name. Good times, but no more. He couldn't trust Dru, not after she'd betrayed him. You just don't turn your beloved into a sodding doll.
Dropping the cigarette, his face a mask of indifference, Spike's legs were taking long, purposeful, don't fuck with me strides across the open area, the grassy garden between the buildings. Scanning automatically, he'd discarded the two men in suits, who stood by the railing that overlooked the back of the children's museum, as unimportant, when one of them, younger and shorter than his companion, started running over to Spike. “Hey you.”
“Oh no you didn't,” Spike muttered. As the man reached out to grab him, Spike, reading the name tag, said mildly, hoping to egg the man on, “Ray, keep that hand to yourself.”
Ray, his height allowing him to look down on Spike, got right into it, not bothering to assess Spike, although he did whisper his question. “Know where I can pick up some yerba buena?” When Spike merely blinked a few times in response, not believing what he'd just heard, Ray started in again. “Herba sancta, Mary Jane, pot?”
Spike laughed. “Are you honestly looking for marijuana at the Yerba Buena Gardens?”
Ray, looking confused, glanced over at his companion, an older man whose suit had a finer weave, for confirmation. Spike read the name tag while waiting for Ray to figure out what to do: Hal Wilburn, Aviation Technologies, Inc. “Well, yeah,” Ray finally mumbled.
“I am so doing the world a favor by taking you out of it.” As he shifted into vamp-face, dragging Ray in close and biting his neck, Spike caught Hal with his gaze, watching him cower against the railing, frozen in place as he glanced back and forth as if looking for escape, indecisive and unable to run. Letting Ray fall to the ground, Spike dropped his vamp-face, smiled at Hal and strolled off, singing at the top of his lungs, paraphrasing an old Dead Kennedy's tune. “Gonna kill, kill, kill, kill, kill the dumb. Kill, kill, kill, kill, kill the dumb.” Dealing with the idiots had unexpectedly put him in a good mood. He decided to look for Willow.
Crossing town had taken no time, as if love had given him wings, until he'd reached their home. Spike stared up, not seeing the bright yellow siding of the house, standing shock still in the front yard, frozen in place, glued to the ground by the heaviness in his heart, listening to two sets of moans and one short, high-pitched scream cut off just as it began. Willow wasn't alone. Kicking in the front door, not caring who heard the ruckus, ignoring the tinkling of glass as the door hit the wall, Spike raced up the stairs taking them three and even four steps at a time, slammed open the bedroom door, and stopped again.
Willow was on top, straddling the couple entwined on the bed, shoving that great monstrosity of a phallus into the ass of that little bit of a girl they'd stashed in the closet, the housekeeper that Willow had insisted they needed to keep around. As Willow pulled it out, readying herself to shove it in again, Spike could see it was slick with blood. No surprise there. Willow herself could barely take that thing. He couldn't imagine what it would do to a human, but that wasn't what had stopped him. On the bottom – her mouth latched onto the girl's as if she were feeding off her screams – was a second Willow.
The Willow on top greeted him with a smile, that special one he'd imagined she'd invented only for him, before ramming the dildo in with short, sharp thrusts, twisting it viciously. The girl's screams took on such a desperate tone that even Willow couldn't swallow them all. As Willow let go, shifting into vamp-face, the air filled with screams but only for a moment until both Willows, each going for a different side of the neck, started feeding.
Dumping the corpse to the floor, they got up off the bed, the bottom Willow brushing a finger over her jaw, collecting the blood, while the top Willow gave him a pout, one that, like the smile, he recognized. Spike felt relieved, glad to know which Willow was his. “Pet, mind telling me why there are two of you?”
Willow made him wait while she searched through the closet and pulled out a black robe, silk with red dragons. Spike held it up for her while she slipped her arms in and tied the belt, but when he went to wrap his arms around her, she slipped away. “You wouldn't let me kill Buffy.”
“There are two of you because I wouldn't let you kill Buffy?” He knew that wasn't what she meant, but Willow liked to think she was smarter than everyone else, and he'd found it easier to go along.
“Are you on that again?” the second Willow, the one that wasn't his, asked.
“And you didn't kill your best friend?” Spike could tell, by the way she'd said it, that Willow was hoping the other Willow hadn't, that they'd shared that disappointment.
The second Willow smiled, as if recalling a pleasant memory. “Xander did put up a fight, but he Turned into quite the tasty treat.” She looked at Willow sympathetically. “I know what'll cheer you up,” she said in a voice so intimate that Spike could almost hear the steam rising.
“Don't touch me,” Willow grumbled.
“Not a problem,” the second Willow replied, landing at Spike's feet, kneeling before him, and pulling down his zipper in one flash of motion.
“Hey, what're you doing?” he protested, not sure how he felt about this second Willow. “Oh.” Shoving his hips into her, grinding them against her face, he grabbed onto her hair and held on for dear life.
Willow leaned forward.
Spike shouted out as he came, gripping onto Willow's shoulders tightly, shoving himself against her, and shuddering as she milked down every drop. “By Elegor's ten thousand tentacles, woman! Where'd you learn to do that?”
“Trick of the tongue,” she told him. As she turned to his Willow, asking, “Want me to show you how?” Spike zipped up his pants, vaguely disturbed that the wrong Willow could make him feel what his Willow no longer did.
At the sound of footsteps on the stairs, all three heads turned. Identifying the tread before the two Willows did, Spike stepped between Willow and the door as he wondered if his earlier invocation of the demon had summoned his earliest love.
“There you all are.” Dru's voice called from halfway up the staircase.
The two Willows stepped together, linking arms. “I thought you said she was dead,” Willow commented.
“I showed you Buffy's death. I never said anything about what did or didn't happen to this one,” the other Willow replied as Dru stepped into the doorway.
“She shot an arrow through me, ruining my pretty, pretty dress,” Dru said.
“So you fled,” Willow said, the sarcasm heavy in her voice. “I would have killed Buffy.”
“Now, now pet.”
“Why are you here?” the second Willow asked.
“You know about the Mayor of Sunnydale,” Dru said with certainty.
“No,” Spike replied.
“He became a demon, a true demon,” Willow told him, “but he's been injured.”
“The demon can heal, but only if he feeds on creatures more than human.” Shrugging, Dru added, “I didn't want to become demon food.”
“So stay out of Sunnydale,” the second Willow said.
“He gets a taste for human flesh,” Dru replied, “and takes over the whole,wide world. No more hiding places. Olly olly oxen free for all the dead little girls and boys.”
“So what?” Willow asked, stepping between Dru and Spike. “You think we're going to put on white hats and help you take the demon out?”
“I think she can get us to a different dimension,” Dru said, pointing at the second Willow.
“Let me get this straight,” Spike said. “You think I'm going to trust you after you turned me into a doll?”
“She told me to,” Dru said, a childish pout on her lips as she pointed to the second Willow.
“I don't care what the sea... wait. What?”
The second Willow shrugged. “The last time I was here, the Slayer defeated me. When I got sent back, I studied her and chose an indirect approach.”
“Yeah, well I'll show you the benefits of a direct...” Spike started shouting as he pulled his arm back for a punch.
Willow, his Willow, not that skanky bitch she'd picked up, stepped between them. “Spike, wait. We need her help to leave.”
He stared at her. “You want to leave with these two?”
“If what they say about the Mayor is true, then yes.”
Spike, watching his Willow sharing a glance with that bitch, narrowed his eyes as he worked out what they were up to. “Don't even think about betraying Dru,” he warned. “If you decide to leave her here, she'll know even before you do and pick out someplace awful.”
Dru's smile promised untold agonies and unimaginable torments.
“I don't see why we need her,” Willow said petulantly.
“Because,” the bitch Willow replied, “while I can move between dimensions, I can't scry outside of the dimension I'm in. We could end up anywhere.”
“I can See, but I can't Move,” Dru added.
“Great,” Willow said, fidgeting with the belt of her robe. “A match made in hell. Where are we going then?”
Dru, stepping toward the dresser, waved her hand and Buffy appeared, sitting on the floor of a small, plain room, tugging at her arms, which were wrapped in a straitjacket, as if trying to pull herself out. The bitch Willow took one look and started rummaging about for her clothes. Spike, not interested in anything Dru had to show, lit a cigarette and waited for them to finish. “Where is she?” Willow asked.
“In an asylum,” Dru replied. “The dreams bleed over. She has the visions and the instinct but not the knowledge or the power. She's given it all up you see. They've convinced her she's insane, confused, weak.”
Willow brushed a finger over the mirror. “Buffy isn't the Slayer there? Pity. It'll make her so much less fun to hunt.”
“You really should leave her alone.”
Spike's head jerked up at that, at the warning in Dru's voice, but his words died unspoken as he heard a siren pulling up front. “Time to go.” As Willow grabbed her clothes, he glared, darting glances of rage between bitch Willow and Dru. He could bide his time. His Willow might be enamored with her other self for the moment, but the novelty would wear off. She'd be his, and his alone, again.
The bitch Willow chanted a few words and a white glow overtook his field of vision, so he couldn't see anything else. By the time he'd blinked his sight back, they were there. The cops were gone and, althought the room didn't look that much different, the bed was made where it had been beyond rumpled earlier, and the corpse was gone. “That's it? We're in a different universe?” his Willow asked.
“That's it,” the bitch Willow replied. Hearing something in the bathroom, Spike slipped into the hallway.
The housekeeper, the same girl as from his universe, stepped into the hall just as he did. Grabbing her and slapping a hand over her mouth, Spike dragged her back into the bedroom in time to hear that bitch saying, “Got trained in magic while I was in hell, before I got sent back.”
“Well now,” Spike proclaimed. “Look what I found.”
“Oh good,” Willow said, stepping over and brushing a hand over the girl's cheek. “You died much too quickly last time.”
“Pet,” Spike cautioned. “We need her alive for now, just like we did in our verse. It was your idea, remember?”
“I'm bored with San Francisco.”
“We don't know how this place works yet, luv. It'll be better for us to hole up somewhere familiar while we get a feel for the place.”
Dru chimed in. “When Buffy was put in the asylum, that's when your life here broke off from your life there.”
“They have a Slayer here?” Willow asked.
“Yes, but only one at a time, like it was in our world before Buffy showed up. The last one was from Spain, a plain dark-haired girl who,” Dru started.
“Let's go,” Willow interrupted.
“Where?” Spike asked.
“Los Angeles.”
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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Date: 2011-03-08 01:00 am (UTC)Gabrielle
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Date: 2011-03-08 01:07 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-03-08 04:39 am (UTC)It's so cool that you can't tell what's going to happen. *happy dance* The whole story is written, but I've got edits to do before posting.
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Date: 2011-03-20 07:17 pm (UTC)Eager to see where things go from here.
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Date: 2011-03-20 08:30 pm (UTC)